


Stalemate

by murphybabe



Series: Whole Foods [2]
Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M, Whole Foods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 02:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5439329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murphybabe/pseuds/murphybabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lads are back at Whole Foods but this time, Doyle's shopping is interrupted as danger and peril lurk in the bread department.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stalemate

**Author's Note:**

> Yet more fluff, and yet more apologies to Whole Foods for choosing them as the location for fictional chaos and mayhem! I do love it there, really :)

‘What do you mean, no waffles?’ Bodie’s eyes were even bluer than usual with indignation.

‘Porridge?’ suggested Doyle helpfully.

‘Porridge? I don’t bleedin’ think so.’

‘Okay, omelette. And then one of those chocolate croissants you like. Only one, mind – think of your ticker.’

‘But I wanted waffles. Waffles, Ray, with all that cream on top and the berries and that chocolate sauce.’

‘Bodie, I’m not going to be that long. Grab a coffee and a croissant and sit down and wait for me.’

‘And that’s another thing. Just look at that.’ He rattled off the list at speed, ‘Espresso, macchiato, latte, cappuccino, americano, flat white – and then you go into mocha, hot chocolate and chai latte. And what the hell is that – pumpkin spiced latte? Why would you want vegetables in your coffee? If it is coffee. I dunno - remember when it was just coffee, and your only choice was whether you wanted it black or white?’

After some fussing, Doyle got his partner installed at a table with his macchiato and croissant.

‘All right now?’

‘This coffee tastes burnt.’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake give over. That’s just a different roast. Honestly, nothing’s right for you this morning, is it?’

‘Well. No waffles. An’ I was thinking of them all through our run this morning.’

Doyle rolled his eyes and turned to leave.

‘You could always order my smoothie for when I get back,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘Healthy Detox Supreme, please.’

‘On your bike, sunshine.’ Bodie made himself comfortable at the table, flexing his spine and stretching out till he was comfortable. He watched with satisfaction as Doyle’s eyes narrowed.

‘Okay – I won’t be long. Mediterranean focaccia and a cranberry sourdough – oh, and that sausage you like.’ Bodie wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at him and he grinned back reluctantly. ‘Pillock.’

Doyle turned and looked back as he reached the stairs to see Bodie, long legs spread out under the table, displaying a nicely-packed crotch. Bodie winked at him and Doyle turned back for the stairs cursing his inconvenient and uncomfortable erection.

bdbdbdbd

Bodie was contemplating another coffee and just possibly a slice of carrot cake. After all, Doyle had said he wouldn’t be long. How much time did it take to buy fancy bread and cheese anyway? Mind, his partner was like a kid in a sweetshop when it came to the displays downstairs, and no matter what he’d said about ‘just’ bread and cheese, Bodie knew that the shopping bags would be packed full of food that Ray couldn’t resist. And, to be fair, neither would Bodie, despite his often-repeated complaints about exotic ingredients and odd combinations.

He glanced around the big room. Plenty of yummy mummies with pushchairs and tots in tow, most of whom, from the insistent commands, seemed to be called Isabella or Jacob: he winced and looked away as one little angel mashed some sticky concoction into the hair of a sibling.

So – carrot cake? It might make up for the lack of waffles. The annoying thing, he mused, was that the waffles were still advertised on the chalk board behind the counter. He shook his head. Definitely another coffee, then, and he could get Ray’s disgusting green drink at the same time.

He rose from his seat and paused, all senses suddenly on alert, as screams sounded from the stairs. A wave of raised voices and the sound of trampling feet sent him racing for the exit, plunging down the steps towards the supermarket where people were stampeding out of the main door in a desperate urge to escape. Fighting against the tide was hard, but Bodie shoved his way brutally towards the source of the problem. He reached the entrance and paused, peering round the door.

There were a few shoppers and assistants trapped towards the back of the store, but there, front and centre, was Ray. Ray, on his knees at the feet of a woman who had a knife to his neck. She looked up, attracted by the movement, and hissed, ‘You!’ The knife dug further into Doyle’s neck, and a thin trickle of blood was spreading over the collar of his shirt.

Bodie stayed very still. He – they both – might have been out of the field for some time now but some things didn’t change. You didn’t antagonise or surprise someone who had the advantage.

‘You all right, Ray?’ He kept his voice low and calm, although the adrenaline pumping through his body at the sight of his partner made his heart rate kick up into overdrive.

‘Yeah. Think this lady might have mistaken me for someone else.’ Doyle’s voice was equally low but slightly strained due to the angle of his neck.

‘Mistaken? Oh, no, I don’t think so. I know exactly who you are, you _bastard!_ ’

Bodie looked at her, mind racing frantically. Who was she? Was she a nutter, or did she really know Doyle? And if so, where from? There were so many years of villains, it was hard to separate them sometimes. But this unkempt woman with the staring brown eyes and straggly grey hair was no one they knew.

‘I was inside for a long time. I had plenty of opportunity to plan what to do to you. Every bloody parole board turned me down. I had to serve the full sentence, thanks to the psychologists – and you! But I knew they’d have to let me out one day, and then I’d hunt you down and make you suffer.’ Each jerky sentence was uttered with force and spittle collected at the corner of the woman’s mouth.

Who was she? Bodie stared fiercely at the woman. Doyle closed his eyes briefly and swallowed. Blood ran sluggishly down his neck.

‘Really, I think you must have the wrong person. Now why don’t we –‘

‘Oh, yes, I know I’ve changed. Thirty years in prison does that. You thought I was pretty enough once!’

‘Look, I’m sorry if I’ve –‘

‘My dad just gave up and rotted away in his cell but I was determined to hunt you down. That kept me going. I used to lie there at night imagining I had my knife at your throat. Like this!’ and she twisted her wrist viciously.

The knife in question was digging into Doyle’s neck now and a thin stream of blood trickled steadily down into his open collar. Doyle tried to shift to move the pressure and put one hand up placatingly.

‘Turvey. Turvey’s granddaughter. Julie, that’s it, isn’t it?’ He caught Bodie’s gaze and made a grimace indicating the need for conciliation.

‘Yeah, that’s right. Come on, now, love, there’s no need for all this. Let’s just talk –‘

The woman interrupted with a howl of fury.

‘You don’t even bloody remember! You ruined my life, you ruined my dad’s life and you don’t even remember who I am!’

Bodie winced. Wrong guess.

‘I’m Jill! Jill Hayden! You got my dad locked away and then you got me locked away too, you bastard! Remember me now?’ She dug the knife in triumphantly and Doyle flinched as it gouged a deep furrow along the base of his neck.

Bodie’s mind was racing. Much further and she could – and indeed probably would - slit his partner’s throat. He calculated, working out her undoubted need to make Doyle suffer against the satisfaction of ending it all now. But what might her strategy be? How would she get away? Then it came to him, listening to her ranting – she had no strategy. Her hatred had grown during her time in prison so that it was an all-consuming mania and she could see nothing else. Bodie scanned the area, calculating angles, looking for options, his gaze flicking over and dismissing the terrified staff. All he could see were shelves full of produce, counters full of cheese and olives, and artistically-arranged heaps of bread.

This was ridiculous. A Mexican standoff with a middle-aged woman in the bread section of a supermarket? Cowley would be turning in his grave. Bodie’s patience, never strong at the best of times, ran out. He caught Doyle’s gaze in warning and leaned on the counter, one hand behind it, fumbling for anything that could – ah. He nodded infinitesimally at Doyle.

The woman was listing all the things she was planning on doing when Doyle groaned and clutched at his chest, choking slightly.

‘Don’t you dare fucking die on me now!’ she screamed. As she shifted her grasp on the sagging Doyle, Bodie brought his arm up from behind the counter and in one smooth overarm move let fly with the knife in his hand. It hit her at the junction of neck and shoulder as Doyle rolled out of her grip, her knife clattering harmlessly to the floor.

Bodie dived to subdue her, twisting her arm cruelly behind her back. Doyle scooped both knives out of the way and sat back on his heels, regarding Bodie quizzically.

‘I was beginning to wonder if you’d stopped to finish your carrot cake first.’

‘How did you know I wanted carrot cake?’

‘How did you know I needed rescuing?’

‘Who else would cause mayhem in a bloody bakery? Thought all the screaming was because they’d run out of fancy bread as well as waffles.’

There was a bustle at the door as the police arrived, and some confusion as they established that no, Bodie hadn’t taken the woman hostage and yes, she was the cause of the panic. Once this was over and the paramedics had cleaned the wound on Doyle’s neck, they looked around to find a be-suited individual bearing down on them, hands flapping in an agitated fashion.

‘Watch it, here comes Mr. Humphries,’ muttered Doyle, who was weary and just wanted to go home.

‘Are you one of our regular customers, sir?’ The manager of the store wasn’t quite sure whether to treat them as heroes or as the cause of the whole situation, and his attitude was polite but tempered with caution, perhaps expecting Bodie to run amok.

‘Yes, we’re in here most weekends. He sits upstairs with a coffee while I come and do the shopping down here.’

‘Yeah, and that’s something I wanted to talk to someone about. Did you know there’s no – _oof_!’ Doyle had nudged his partner violently in the ribs.

‘I’m so sorry, gentlemen, I really can’t imagine why that woman chose our store to cause such a disturbance.’ The manager looked around despairingly. ‘It’s going to take us a while to clean up after this incident, and I’ll need to file a report with Head Office. I do hope that this hasn’t put you off – really, I can’t explain it, and I do assure you that this has never happened before!’

With some difficulty, the partners reassured the man that they would return to the store in future, Bodie snaffling a loaf of bread on his way out (‘after all, you can’t sell it now, can you?’) and slipped through the remaining police cordon to head down the High Street towards home.

‘You saved me again.’

‘Yep. Always will, sunshine.’

And there, on the busy High Street, they exchanged long glances that said it all, without the need for words.

bdbdbdbd

**Coda**

Once indoors, they set the locks and made coffee in silence. Sitting on the comfy sofa, biscuits within range, Bodie looked at his partner.

‘You all right?’

‘Yeah. Yeah, I am. Bit sore, but that’ll pass.’

‘That wasn’t what I meant, Ray.’

Doyle gave a wry smile. ‘No, I know. Well, I can’t help thinking that it was all her own fault.’

Bodie gave him a sharp glance. ‘Years ago, you’d have beaten yourself up about it.’

‘Years ago I’d’ve thought it was my fault. Thought I should have gone to see her in prison. Wondered why she did it, why me. Now I know some people are just plain wrong ‘uns.’ He shook his head wonderingly. ‘I didn’t recognise her though. Wouldn’t have recognised her in a month of Sundays.’

‘You can’t keep track of every villain. And even if I’d ever given her a passing thought I would never have guessed that she’d come out of the nick and hunt you down.’

‘No. She looked dreadful. She was a pretty girl, once.’

‘Fancied her, didn't you?’ Bodie raised an eyebrow at his partner.

‘Nah. Well, yeah, but we’d just started then, hadn’t we? It was a sort of reflex – you know, see a pretty girl, chat her up.’

‘I’m glad we managed to reprogram those particular reflexes, then.’

Ignoring this, Doyle pondered for a minute. ‘Bodie, do we look that old?’

‘You might, sunshine, but I’m still tall, dark and beautiful – and eng—oof!’

After a brief scuffle on the sofa, followed by a longer interval to reacquaint themselves with each other and to check that they really were okay, Bodie sat up and asked plaintively,

’What’s for tea?’

‘Just a walking stomach, that’s you. Here’s me, nearly losing me all in a supermarket, and here’s you, wondering when you’re going to be fed.’

‘Yeah, well, I’m hungry, aren’t I? All that exercise – running round Holland Park, then saving you – I need regular sustenance, me. You sent me into Tesco’s on the way home – there must be something you had in mind.’

‘Mmmm. While you were in there I went into Skillman’s.’

‘That‘s not a grocers’ – that’s a hardware shop.’

‘Yep. Bought you something. Anniversary present.’ Doyle sat back in satisfaction.

Bodie smiled. ‘28 years today – who’d have thought we’d even live that long, back in the day?’

‘28 years since we stopped faffing around and decided it was real – we’d been screwing around for a lot longer than that, mate.’

Bodie’s face lit up like the little boy Doyle still thought he resembled sometimes. ‘What did you get me then? I thought you gave me my pressie this morning?’

‘This is something extra. To make up for your disappointment earlier.’

‘What, when we discovered we’re not 26 any more and can’t get it up three times in one morning?’

‘Yeah, well, it was fun trying.’

‘Come on, come on, what is it? Tell me!’ Bodie was almost bouncing on the sofa now. Doyle smiled broadly – he loved Bodie’s enthusiasm.

‘First,’ he said sternly, ‘did you get what I asked you to get from Tesco?’

‘Yeah – cream, eggs and flour, blueberries and chocolate sauce. Can’t imagine what you’re planning to do with those.’ The mix of puzzlement and lasciviousness on his face made Doyle laugh outright.

‘Okay. Here you go then.’

He handed over a box with a picture on the front of a lion, a giraffe and an elephant.

‘Erm, Ray…?’

‘Read the box, Bodie.’

‘It’s a waffle maker! You bought me a waffle maker!’

‘Yep – I looked at the proper ones, but then I saw this and thought of you. After all, it’s like feeding time at the zoo, sometimes, trying to keep the inner Bodie fed.’

Bodie’s face flushed pink, and he turned to take Doyle in an embrace.

‘Don’t know what I’d do without you, sometimes,’ he mumbled into Doyle’s curls.

‘Yeah, well,’ Doyle responded indulgently, ‘I wouldn’t be here without you, would I?’ Judging his moment, he stroked Bodie’s back lightly and then patted him briskly. His partner didn’t give in to emotion easily.

‘Come on, into the kitchen with you. Let’s make up for this morning’s disappointment.’

‘Aw, Ray, not in the kitchen! I thought we’d do that later – I put clean sheets on and everything!’

‘Waffles, you great pillock!’

‘Ooh, you sweet talker!’ Bodie dashed into the kitchen with his new toy, and Doyle followed more slowly. He put a hand to his neck, grimacing slightly as the dressing pulled against the skin, but thinking how lucky he was. How lucky they both were, he amended, listening to happy humming from the kitchen. He grinned, and went to help Bodie get his waffles.

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2013, again at a Prospersons meet-up. The note I included at the time was:  
> "I was supposed to be writing a barista fic for MoonlightMead, who couldn’t be with us at Whole Foods this year. Sorry it didn’t quite turn out that way!"


End file.
